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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28948131">Falling</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GermsBurn/pseuds/GermsBurn'>GermsBurn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Lost Boys (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(fyi Paul/Marko is brief), Angst, Blood Drinking, Bloodlust, But make it morally and emotionally bleak, Canon-Typical Violence, Codependency, Drug Use, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, Self-Harm, Topping from the Bottom, Vampire Turning</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:54:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,448</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28948131</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GermsBurn/pseuds/GermsBurn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>David is, finally, at peace; Michael realizes what he, briefly, had.</p><p>"He had wanted to know: what would it feel like to just let go? There had been a thrill in unclenching his fists, letting the metal slip from his fingers. It had been so easy, almost like not making a decision at all."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>David/Michael Emerson (Lost Boys), Marko/Paul (Lost Boys)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Exteriority</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>"The way I played David's death was essentially to find peace in returning to the boy he was before he was taken." -Kiefer Sutherland</p><p>A more classic David/Michael post-canon story. Do mind the warnings and tags.  </p><p>This is finished at about 15k and will be edited and posted in full over the coming days. I haven't forgotten "Our Way," it's just slow going and then inspiration struck...</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As the horns pierced clear through his chest, the hunger that had pounded relentlessly against the shores of his being for as long as David could remember started to ebb. At first, he had just felt pain, excruciating, gut-wrenching pain, pain like the pain he had felt a million times before. Meaningless pain that would inevitably resolve, like clockwork, into nothing as his body healed itself, as it steadfastly refused to give up the chase. But the pain stuck this time. And then the hunger began to wash away, receding like low tide to reveal a peace that he had long forgotten. His eyes closed.</p><p>__</p><p>It first dawned on Michael as he watched Dwayne spark and twitch, an arrow through his chest, pinned to the stereo like a butterfly. Seeing the vampire shatter in front of his eyes, he felt inexplicable, unexpected pangs of kinship and loss in close succession: something taken away, painfully, almost at the same moment that it had been offered. He grabbed Sam and ran. But the pain only twisted harder as he made his way up the stairs, his humanity washing away with the torrents of Paul’s blood that rained down from the ceiling. Every drop felt like it was being let from his own veins. His chest throbbed and ached with phantom pain, duller, more distant.</p><p>That’s when David found him and pushed him back down to the sparking wreckage, danced around him, all laughter and shadow. He didn’t have time to think as the vampire came at him, again and again, pushing until something inside him finally broke through to the surface. It was fast, exhilarating, disorienting: over almost as soon as it had begun.</p><p>As David went still, everything fell into place, heavy like lead. The adrenaline faded and realization dawned on him again, harder this time. He was like a wounded animal as he stared at David's lifeless body. Felt the horns goring through his own chest, tearing away everything that he had known before. He was, somehow, still half. He couldn’t explain the power coiled in his muscles, the predatory shape of his face, the inexorable pull of the blood that surrounded him. But the world remained different, unrecognizable. The change that had ripped through his body as they fought settled into his bones, unfolding and nestling deep within him. He felt, acutely, the gaping void where the creatures that he now understood to be <em>his brothers</em> had been. It was like the bloody shapes of David, Dwayne, Paul, and Marko had been carved out of him, amputated before he had even known them. Their loss seared him, cauterizing a wound. He couldn’t close his eyes: he just stared, broken-hearted, as light poured down over David’s body, horrified at what he had done, how completely he had misunderstood David, misunderstood himself.  </p><p>His trance was broken only by Star’s screaming. He moved through the rest of the night on autopilot. Numbly going through the motions, driven by a fading memory of the need to protect his family, a reflex. And then it was all over. Max, reduced to nothing but black plumes of smoke. Michael’s heart started to beat faster; his breath came more naturally. He blinked his eyes in disbelief as his body flooded with very human pain, melted back to what it had been before. No, not what it had been before. He had been hollowed out, left resoundingly empty. He rattled with afterimages of David’s face: serene and ethereal, vicious and inhuman. Star and Laddie embraced, celebrating, and he found that he wasn’t relieved. The knowledge of what he’d done, what he’d lost was indelible. He had never been more sure about anything before in his life. A decision had already been made.</p><p>“Is everybody okay?” he asked, allowing himself to be pulled into a hug. The embrace was so fragile, so insubstantial, nothing like how David had held him when they had flown through the air.</p><p>__</p><p>“What’re we going to do about this mess?” Lucy sounded tired, overwhelmed with the revelations of the night. After his dramatic entrance, his grandfather had left just as abruptly. Had retreated into his workshop with a root beer and a sigh.</p><p>One of the Frog brothers spoke up, “Should get ’em out of here. Make sure we destroy all the pieces so they don’t come back.”</p><p>“Come back!?” Sam sounded incredulous, “You gotta be kidding me.”</p><p>The kid nodded gruffly. “Yeah, can’t be too careful.”</p><p>“We should definitely burn them,” the other Frog added, “can’t come back from that.”</p><p>“Nobody’s burning anything,” Lucy took a deep, calming breath, “you’ve all done enough for today. What you need is a good night’s rest.”</p><p>“But mom,” Sam looked at her pleadingly, “we should listen to them, they know what they’re talking about.”</p><p>“No,” Lucy said firmly, “I’m the adult here. That’s final.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Upstairs. Now, Sam.” She nodded to the Frogs, “You too boys, go home.”</p><p>Michael tuned the chatter out. He needed to think.</p><p>It was decided that Star and Laddie would spend the night in the guest room, and soon everyone but Michael had been herded upstairs, too exhausted to fight against Lucy’s formidable will, against her unflagging kindness. Star hadn’t clung to him, hadn’t tried to draw him up to bed with her. Now that it was over, it seemed like she just wanted to put him, and everything else, behind her. He didn’t blame her, but he couldn’t really fathom it.</p><p>He had just been a way out for her, one she didn’t need anymore. And maybe that was all she had been for him. A way to keep running from what he really wanted.</p><p>Alone at last, Lucy folded Michael into her arms. He stilled as she ran her fingers through his hair, a comforting gesture that she had done countless times before. He faintly wished that it was enough. “I’m glad you’re back with us, sweetheart.” She pressed a kiss to his temple, smoothing out his curls, ignoring the blood and sweat that still coated his face in the way only a mother could.</p><p>“Let me take care of this, Ma,” he whispered gently, “I’ll get everything out of the way tonight. We’ll start fresh tomorrow.” She looked at him gratefully, giving him a final hug before heading upstairs. Michael watched her leave. That had been easier than he expected.</p><p>__</p><p>Michael collected what was left of Paul first, gathering up the bones one by one, drying them off with reverent concentration, placing them methodically in a black garbage back. The bones were pristine, smooth. Weighed less than he would have thought. The holy water that still filled the tub, studded with blood-stained cloves of garlic, meant nothing to him; he regarded it curiously as it flowed through his fingers, innocuous, impotent. After carrying the bag out to the car, he went to deal with Dwayne. Singed and charred body parts lay scattered around the room, a burning smell still hung heavy in the air. He was surprised that he didn’t flinch, that his stomach didn’t turn as he set about his task. Every piece of the dark-haired vampire’s remains was painstakingly deposited into another bag.</p><p>He couldn’t put off dealing with David any longer. His heart caught in his chest when he finally approached the body. He looked so whole, compared to his brothers, so peaceful.</p><p>Alone in the quiet of the night, Michael couldn’t hide from the fact that he found him beautiful. He’d never been more attracted to anyone before, and David had seemed…interested, maybe. But he hadn’t had the guts to admit it to himself then and now it was too late.</p><p>He tipped the taxidermy over, reaching around to lift the body off the protruding horns into something resembling a hug. David was heavy, unwieldy. Stray tears stained his cheeks as he held the lifeless body in his arms. But the emotion was barely a whisper, a shadow of the bone-deep anguish that he had felt before, when he was still half, still connected to David, to the boys on a level that he couldn’t even begin to make sense of now. But somehow the absence of that pain hurt even more. Bits and pieces of the fight came back to him. David hadn’t wanted to kill him, hadn’t wanted to keep fighting, had tried to make him immortal.</p><p>With a sigh he carried the body out to the car, laying it out carefully in the backseat. He made his way from the driveway, keeping the lights off until he was on the road.</p><p>Michael drove, as if in a trance, to the sunken hotel. Moving carefully, he put what was left of Paul and Dwayne where Marko’s body had fallen. It had felt right to bring the bodies back to the hotel, to keep them together. He knew that he should burn them or leave them out in the sun. But he also knew that he wasn’t going to. He couldn’t betray them again, even in death. Even if he was no longer one of them.</p><p>The absoluteness of that realization weighed on him as he stared at what was left of David. He arranged his body on the bed in the lobby, the bed where he had gone seeking answers, had left more confused than before.  </p><p>“Your blood <em>wasn’t</em> in my veins, was it?” Michael’s voice broke the silence that coated the room, the distinct lack of music, shouting, drunken laughter. “But mine still is.”</p><p>He reached for his pocket knife and sliced into his arm without hesitation. The blood welled up, hot and red. He swayed a little as he moved to prop himself up over the vampire’s body. He let his blood drip onto David’s lips, watched as it spilled uselessly down his chin, trickled past his neck, stained the sheets. Nothing happened, he hadn’t really thought it would. But it seemed only right: blood for blood. The only expiation he could hope for now. Soon exhaustion hit and he collapsed over the other boy’s body, mirroring it, covering it with his own limbs. He grew woozy as the blood kept trickling from his wrist.</p><p>When he came to a few minutes later, there was a sharp pain piercing his neck. He tried to move, but found that he was held in place by inhumanly strong arms. He moaned as it became too much and then passed back out.</p><p>__</p><p>Michael felt weaker than he had ever felt in his life, limp and drained. He could barely open his eyes, couldn’t lift himself up. “What happened?” he mumbled, unsure of where he was. The events of the night were a painful jumble.</p><p>“You tell me, Michael,” David’s voice was low, barely a whisper.  </p><p>He gasped, forcing his eyes open. The vampire was sitting at the foot of the bed, staring at him with an expression that he had never seen before. He looked paler than usual, dark shadows traced circles under his eyes, his lips were raw and chapped. His gloves and his jacket were gone. Two holes gaped, torn into the fabric of his shirt, but the skin underneath was pink, was healing. </p><p>“David,” his eyes widened further, his heart leapt in his chest, “you’re alive.”</p><p>“Alive? No, not alive,” David’s said slowly, “haven’t been alive in a long time.” The vampire leaned forward, taking Michael’s arm into his hands, examining it with an almost clinical air. “Michael,” he sighed, “what have you done?”</p><p>Michael tried to speak, but could barely move his lips, struggled to keep his eyes open. His wrist felt cold and wet where he had cut it. His vision swam. His neck throbbed. “Gonna kill me?” he slurred, as the room faded in and out, “…deserve it.”</p><p>“Was never going to kill you.” He brought Michael’s wrist to his mouth, hesitating for a moment before beginning to lick up the blood that still flowed from the wound. By the time the cut had healed, Michael was unconscious again.  </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p>There were still a few more hours before dawn, and if he wasn’t going to drain Michael, he needed to feed. Even if he did drain Michael, he was going to need to feed. That’s how it worked, that’s how it <em>always </em>worked. David got up and found his jacket where Michael had left it. He slowly made his way out of the cave. “Here we go again,” he observed, launching himself into the night sky.</p><p>When he returned, he was moving faster, surer. His chest was fully healed and his strength restored. He didn’t bother to wipe the blood from his chin. Michael was still asleep; he was so pale, looked half dead. He’d deal with him later. David made his way back to see what had become of Marko’s body. The vampire was laid out exactly where they had left him, a gaping hole through his chest. Two black garbage bags were resting nearby. He closed his eyes and then forced himself to look at the remains of Paul and Dwayne. He wondered what Michael had thought he was doing when he brought them back. Wondered if they had also tasted peace.</p><p>Steeling himself, he carried what was left of each of his boys back into the deepest reaches of the hotel, to a room that was impossible to reach except by flight. Buried them in shallow graves where the foundation of the hotel had crumbled to reveal moist layers of sand and dirt. It would be cruel to resurrect them, he thought bitterly, still feeling the sting of what had been taken from him, again. But he knew himself too well, had spent hundreds of years learning exactly who, exactly what he was: better to leave the option open.</p><p>The sun was going to rise soon. Its reign was absolute, unavoidable. He made his way back to the lobby, sitting down on the edge of the bed again. “Michael, wake up.”</p><p>Michael managed to open his eyes.</p><p>“So, you brought my boys back here with you too, huh? Betting your family isn’t gonna be too happy about that. What’d you tell them?”</p><p>Michael squeezed his eyes closed, groaning, “Shit.”</p><p>David shook his head. There was no way that they weren’t going to come straight back here looking for Michael, looking for the missing bodies of the vampires that had attacked them. A wave of anger washed over him; the emotion was familiar, felt <em>good</em>. He swallowed it down, there would be time for that later.</p><p>“Alright, let’s go.” David gathered him into his arms as if he weighed nothing. He had taken a lot of blood; Michael could barely hold his head up. He glided them silently to another room deep within the catacombs of the hotel where they would remain undisturbed. Laying the boy down on an old mattress, he let himself float up to the pipes that ran across the ceiling, falling instantly into a familiar, dreamless sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Interiority</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well, it was definitely tricky to write David in something other than his usual role as charismatic seducer...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sun had already set by the time Michael woke up. He could barely move; he felt like shit. It was too dark to make anything out. He tried to remember where he was, what had happened.</p><p>“Awake?”</p><p>He would have known that voice anywhere.  </p><p>“David,” he gasped, pulling himself up with a start, “it’s you.”</p><p>“Of course it’s me. Who were you expecting?”</p><p>“I can’t believe it worked, I thought…”</p><p>“Not sure thinking is your strong suit, Michael.” David’s laughter, cold and bitter, pierced through the darkness.</p><p>“Fuck, David. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I should have listened. I didn’t listen…I didn’t realize, it was too fast. It all happened so fast.” His thoughts rushed together, relief and disbelief flooding his mind in equal measure. Fragments of the previous night were coming back to him now: he’d killed David, he’d brought him back.</p><p>He’d brought him back.</p><p>“God, I can’t believe it worked.”  </p><p>“God,” David spat the word out, “has nothing to do with this.” He lit a torch, throwing it into the room's lone oil barrel.</p><p>The room looked unfamiliar: more spare, less wild than the lobby. Patches of peeling wallpaper crawled up from the floor, fading into the telltale dark stains of water damage. Broken brass sconces twisted uselessly from fixtures embedded in the decrepit walls, glinting in the low light. A canopy of stone loomed overhead, where the sea cave had reclaimed the old hotel’s architecture. Broken bottles and cigarette butts littered the ground.</p><p>Michael struggled to find words, not sure what he wanted to say, what he <em>could</em> say. He could barely explain his actions to himself and his mind felt fuzzy.</p><p>Holding on to what he could remember of the sense of resolve that had guided his hand so far, he forced himself to look at David.  </p><p>His heart caught in his throat. David was there, looking exactly as he had before everything had fallen apart. He wasn’t going to deny it this time, what he wanted, what David had offered. “I understand now,” he said, speaking with as much conviction as he could muster.</p><p>“No, you really don’t.” David wasn’t laughing anymore.</p><p>“David, forgive me. I’ll do anything, just forgive me, please.” He could hardly believe that David was here in the flesh, that he’d been given a second chance, that it wasn’t too late. David who hadn’t wanted to kill him, hadn’t wanted to fight; David who had tried to make him immortal.</p><p>“Please what?” David finally responded, “What exactly do you think that you’re asking for?”</p><p>“I want,” he swallowed, “I want it. To join you.” He was surprised at how sure he sounded.</p><p>When David didn’t respond, he continued, “I brought them back too, Paul and Dwayne, their bodies. I brought them for you.” Hope welled up in his chest as he remembered the ache of their loss. If David was alive, then maybe…</p><p>David narrowed his eyes.  </p><p>His heart sank. “Is it too late, for them? Fuck, I’m so sorry.”</p><p>David remained silent.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he said miserably, “you should just kill me, I know what I did was…unforgivable.” He had started sobbing; it was humiliating, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t hold it back. He choked on his tears, burying his head in his hands. David was, somehow, here<em>, </em>but it was still too late.     </p><p>“No, Michael, you have no idea what you’ve done.”</p><p>After a silence that seemed to stretch out forever, David pushed himself up, smoothing out his jacket. “You look like shit. I’m gonna get you something to eat.”</p><p>__</p><p>David tossed him a carton of Chow Mein and a water bottle. By the time he was finished eating, Michael felt a little bit stronger, a little bit more himself. And a little relieved: no tricks this time.</p><p>“Better?” David reached for the cigarette tucked behind his ear and lit it. He was sitting against the wall, across from the mattress, keeping his distance. He looked almost thoughtful. “You should just go home. Make up some excuse.” He took a drag, studying the cigarette between his fingers. “Say that I kidnapped you and you escaped.”</p><p>“You’d let me go? After everything?”  </p><p>David’s response was instantaneous, his voice flat. “Yup.”</p><p>Michael nodded, surprised. He felt…disappointed. He tried not to let it show. “Well, I can’t.”</p><p>“Of course you can. You have a family, go back to them.” After a long pause, he continued, “You’re human again, it’s over.”</p><p>“No, it’s not. I can’t go back.”</p><p>“Why the fuck not?”  </p><p>“I don’t know how to explain it. When I thought you were dead, when <em>I felt you die, </em>I…something changed. It was…It’s not over…” Michael trailed off, shaking his head. It sounded so absurd when he said it aloud. He ran his fingers through his hair with frustration. The numbness of the previous night had worn off, leaving behind a mess of half-understood emotions, decisions that he could hardly believe. It was like he had been under a spell. He had, without a second thought, left with the bodies of the three vampires that had tried to kill him and his family.     </p><p>“How can I go back,” he continued, buckling under the weight of his realization, “knowing what I did in bringing you back here? You could have just killed me, gone after my family. How can I look my mom in the eyes again? Sam? Shit, I mean, are you going to? Go after them?”</p><p>“Hmm,” David regarded him warily, not answering the question, “sounds like you’re in quite the tight spot, Michael.” The way the vampire drew out his name reminded him of how it had been before, when David had been all charm and thinly-veiled seduction. But it rang hollow, like his heart wasn’t really in it.</p><p>Michael was starting to panic. He couldn’t go back, not now, not anymore, not after what he had done. He’d been ready to die, and for what? Some obscure feeling of kinship, of loyalty that was already becoming a distant memory. He had acted so rashly when he thought that he had lost David—no, when he thought he had killed him. And now David was back, but he didn’t want him anymore. “I’m not going anywhere. You can either turn me or kill me.”</p><p>“That’s not really up to you, is it?” David pulled himself up and tossed his half-smoked cigarette to the ground angrily. He left without another word.</p><p>__</p><p>Michael slept through most of the next day as if in a fever dream. The blood loss had left him weak and disoriented, infusing everything with an air of unreality. </p><p>The sun hadn’t yet set when he woke up, and he stared helplessly into the black void of the room. Sam had probably already led his family or those Frog brothers back to the cave, looking for him, looking for the bodies of the vampires. But David must have brought him somewhere hidden deep within its reaches, far away from daylight, from prying eyes; it felt almost like they were at the center of the earth. He wondered how extensive the ruins of the hotel were, how much of it the boys had claimed, how long they had been there.</p><p>Slowly his eyes began to adjust and shapes emerged from the darkness, ghostly intimations of the bare room. He gasped quietly when he looked up to find David hanging upside-down from the vaulted ceiling. His pale face and bleach blonde hair glowed dully, floating moon-like in the dark. He willed the vampire’s form to resolve, to become clearer. But David’s features remained indistinct, his body shrouded.</p><p>He sat up and tried to sort through the tangled web of his thoughts, but his motivations remained equally obscure. He touched his wrist, only to discover there was no pain. The wound was gone; his arm was completely smooth, as if nothing had even happened. </p><p>“You’re still here?”  </p><p>David’s question cut through the darkness, drawing his attention back to the present. He squinted up at the vampire. “Told you. Not leaving.”</p><p>David leapt down from his perch with inhuman grace, his jacket billowing around him as he landed softly at the foot of the bed. “Stubborn,” he practically purred, “knew I liked you for a reason.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Michael asked, swallowing down the rush of feelings that the statement brought up. Some part of him had really thought that they could just pick up where they had left off, when David still wanted him to join them, when he still <em>wanted him.</em> But David had refused, had rejected him. “So, what changed?”</p><p>David didn’t answer, busying himself with lighting a fire instead. The torch, he noticed, was just a gnarled old branch of driftwood with a rag wound around one end. David’s movements seemed rote, almost reluctant. Soon the oil barrel was burning away and the cave-like room was once more illuminated. Michael relaxed a little as the warmth infused his skin. He had been so lost in his thoughts that he had barely noticed how cold it was.</p><p>“Cigarette?” David tossed his pack over. He slid down against the far wall again, propping his arms up on his knees and tipping his head back.</p><p>They sat smoking in silence. Michael studied David, not bothering to hide his curiosity, his fascination. He drank his fill of David, committing his features to memory, searching his posture for some clue, some tell. He tried to understand why David was putting up with him at all, why he was feeding him, lighting fires he didn’t need, sharing his cigarettes. No matter how hard he looked, nothing became clearer.  </p><p>“Even after everything,” Michael said, finally, “I hardly know anything about you at all.”</p><p>“Yeah, no shit.”    </p><p>They sunk back into silence. He had so many questions. About what had happened, what was happening now. He didn’t know where to start.</p><p>“How old are you?”</p><p>“That’d be telling.”   </p><p>“Well, where did you come from? Santa Carla? Somewhere else?”</p><p>David just glared at him. His left eye twitched; the movement was so small that Michael could have easily missed it.</p><p>“Fine,” Michael exhaled, frustrated, “so you don’t want to talk about yourself. What about me? What did you even want me for in the first place? Or was it just Max all along?”</p><p>“No, it wasn’t just Max’s designs.” David eyed him speculatively, his expression guarded as he weighed his words, “Thought you’d be a good addition to the pack.”</p><p>“The pack? What do you mean?”</p><p>“Doesn’t really matter anymore, does it? You and your little amateur hunters saw to that.”</p><p>“David, I didn’t know—”</p><p>“Well, now you do.” David cut him off, his voice tight and controlled. Only the feral glint in his eyes betrayed the rage that was roiling just under the surface. Soon, though, the amber had faded back to blue, like a candle going out. Michael shivered at the reminder of the reality of what, exactly, David was. What he too had been not so long ago.</p><p>Michael finished his cigarette in silence, nervously replaying the events that had brought them together, trying to understand. He toyed with the coin that dangled from his ear, turning it back and forth between his fingers, a gesture that was already becoming habitual.</p><p>“You know, Michael,” David said distantly, “it’s really a shame. You passed all our tests. Would have fit right in.” </p><p>He thought back to the motorcycle race, to the train tracks. “What was all that about anyway?”</p><p>“Initiation,” he laughed ruefully.  </p><p>“I still don’t understand what it was about me that made you think—” Michael stopped, thinking back to the memories of David taunting him, looking at him like he wanted something, like he had something to give him, to teach him. Those memories had already become precious, smoothed down at the edges from where he had turned them over and over in his mind. “I guess, I thought that you wanted…” He trailed off again, suddenly afraid, after all, to name what it was that he had seen in the other boy’s eyes, what he had hoped was there. </p><p>David laughed again, a hollow, quiet laugh, but didn’t say anything else.</p><p>“Why me?” Michael asked again, needing to know. And also: “What changed?”</p><p>David lit another cigarette, looking, somehow, even more unwilling to answer any of his questions. After an uncomfortable pause, he fixed Michael with a curious look. “What did you feel when you let go that night at the train tracks?”</p><p>“What did I feel?”</p><p>“Yes, what did you feel.” David’s voice had quickly turned patronizing. “You don’t remember? Try, Michael.”</p><p>Michael closed his eyes.</p><p>He remembered how the muscles in his arms had burned, how they had trembled, as he hung clinging to the trestle, his eyes locked with David’s. David had looked so hungry. Something had burned right below David’s easy confidence, barely hidden. And he had returned David’s gaze, stripped of all pretense, wrenched open to reveal something alien at his very core. Something he didn’t recognize, couldn’t name.</p><p>He remembered the horrible moment after the other boys had all dropped when he had dangled, alone, lonely, above the blanket of fog. Then he had heard the faintest trace of their voices, laughing and shouting, so faint that he second-guessed himself, wondered if he wasn’t imagining things.</p><p>He remembered when his grip had started to weaken, his palms raw, painful. But if he was honest with himself, he knew that he could have hung on longer, could have found the strength to hoist himself back up, to walk away even. But he had envied the ease with which the boys released themselves, one after the other, descending into the night. Had wanted to know: what would it feel like to just let go? There had been a thrill in unclenching his fists, letting the metal slip from his fingers. It had been so easy, almost like not making a decision at all.</p><p>He remembered the rush of adrenaline that overtook him as he passed through what he had supposed to be the boundary between life and death, the air cold and bracing as he fell. And then, behind that formidable curtain, something he hadn’t expected at all, hadn’t anticipated, hadn’t been prepared for. The buoyancy, the lightness he felt as his body adjusted.</p><p>He had <em>wanted </em>to let go, had wanted to fall, had been amazed to find that he felt at home in the vertiginous descent.   </p><p>“I felt,” he said slowly, opening his eyes to find that David’s gaze hadn’t strayed by even an inch, “free.”</p><p>David laughed bitterly at that. “Well, we’re never free.”</p><p>He remembered, then, waking up flattened against the ceiling, the world upside down, the ground distant; nothing would never be the same again. Gravity had been replaced by another occult force, equally powerful, equally inescapable.</p><p>“I thought,” Michael paused, unsure of how to voice something of the groundless disappointment that still saturated his mind. He had never gotten to fly with his brothers, had never gotten to burrow and burst through the fleece of clouds that laced the night sky, had never skimmed the surface of the ocean when it was rainbowed with neon streaks left behind after the sun sunk below the horizon. Had never felt unmoored from gravity, from the tyrannical coordinates of up and down. Had never felt the world spiral around him. He didn’t understand how he could so vividly <em>know</em> what he had missed out on, but the phantom memories bore a hole into his mind, played like a movie, surround sound and technicolor. “I thought we could be, together.”</p><p>David’s face froze for a split second before his lips curled into a frown. “Not how it works.”</p><p>“But you wanted me, didn’t you?” Michael’s voice became frantic as he finally put a name to it. He had already leapt, and he couldn’t stop falling now.</p><p>He surged forward, cupping David’s jaw, sick to his stomach, hardly believing what he was doing. His hands shook and he was breathing hard. David didn’t flinch when he pressed their foreheads together. He was ice cold, inhumanly still; it occurred to Michael, suddenly, that he had never been allowed to touch the other boy’s skin before, it had always been shielded, remote. “David,” he ran his hands up and down the sides of his face, but it was like trying to squeeze blood from stone.</p><p>He was about to let go when David suddenly gripped his wrists, clamping them in place. He must have taken off his gloves: the chill of his hands burned like metal. “Is this what you want, Michael?” He pressed his cheek against Michael’s, whispering into his ear, “You want to hold hands?” He squeezed harder, crushing muscle and fat into bone. Michael could feel bruises forming, purple welts encircling his wrists. “Kiss?” David scraped his teeth into the nape of his neck, eliciting a gasp of pain. “You want me to touch you? To fuck you?” Michael gasped, eyes squeezing tightly shut as David pressed their bodies together, grinding into Michael’s growing erection with the sharp jut of his hip, grinding harder as Michael pushed back unthinkingly. He knew he should be surprised at the way his body reacted to the pain, the way it surrendered to David’s will, but he suspected nothing he did could surprise him anymore.</p><p>Then David jerked his arms above his head, pinning his wrists to the wall of the cave with a sudden burst of violence. “Look at me, Michael,” he hissed. Michael slowly forced his eyes open, aroused and off-kilter. David’s face had transformed. His skin was hard, coated with a supernatural sheen. Sharp ridges descended, shadowing his glowing eyes. Without eyebrows, his expression was difficult to read as anything other than anger, cold fury. David didn’t move, held Michael in place, implacable as a mountain, forcing him to face the unfeeling mask that twisted his features. Michael could count his eyelashes, the only whisper left of the boy that this monster had been. After what seemed like an eternity, David drew his lips up, baring his fangs. Strange muscles pulled at his cheeks, twisting his face further still. “You think this is freedom? This is what you want?” His voice was impossibly deep. His eyes gleamed brighter as he smelled the blood that was dripping down from Michael’s wrists where his claws had punctured the delicate layer of skin. Michael was shaking uncontrollably now, but he couldn’t look away.  </p><p>Just as suddenly, David withdrew, letting Michael’s arms fall back down to dangle at his sides. His face shifted back; his claws retracted. He brought his hand up to his mouth, licking up the blood that stained his fingers, the animalistic gesture at odds with his human appearance. After he cleaned up the last traces of red, his lips settled into a frown. He wiped the back of his hand against his mouth with a look of disgust.</p><p>Then he started to laugh, the shattered sound echoing against the walls of the cave.</p><p>Michael finally dropped his gaze, the spell broken. When he looked up, David was pulling gloves back over his pale hands. His expression was shuttered again, remote.</p><p>“Trust me,” David said simply, “you don’t.”</p><p>__</p><p>The nights paraded grimly on. Michael hiding out in the depths of the cave, David making nightly trips out to feed, to pick up takeout for his uninvited guest. Within a week, Michael had become practically nocturnal; his skin grew pale, his limbs heavy and weak.</p><p>Michael sat on the mattress waiting listlessly for David to return. He didn’t know how much longer it could go on like this. Didn't know what he was waiting for, what they were doing in this tense limbo. He had put himself at David’s mercy, and David, for reasons he couldn’t even begin to fathom, let him stay, safe and relatively unscathed.</p><p>Even after the bruises around his wrists had started to fade, after the bracelet of shallow, crescent-shaped cuts had scabbed over, he couldn’t stop thinking about how David had held him, taunting him, warning him. He wondered if David could hear the way his heart hammered in his chest whenever he glimpsed an errant stretch of pale skin. He didn’t really bother hiding it anymore. Compared to David’s perfectly still, silent body, his own had begun to sound deafeningly loud. He was uncomfortably aware of the race of his pulse, of the harsh, shallow vibration of his breath. He thought that he probably smelled awful, like grease and sweat and dirt. He wondered if vampires didn’t have to worry about hygiene, if that was part of not really being alive, not having bodily functions. Maybe David had simply forgotten. He had never felt so horribly, repulsively carnal, so human, before.</p><p>But at the same time, he could barely recognize himself as one of them, as one of the people that walked around, naïve, in the sun beyond the sinister refuge of the old hotel. Like he was slowly becoming something different and unrecognizable, something strange, in its cloistered grip. Something stuck halfway, in between.</p><p>He thought again about David’s offer to just let him leave. But whatever waited for him out there seemed even more unreal and impossible now than it had on that first night. He thought about his family, Sam, Lucy, his grandfather, how worried and confused they must be. He missed them. But even if they would have him, how could he go back now? How could he face them, explain himself? No, he had picked a side.</p><p>Michael was on something like his eighth cigarette of the night by the time David floated in from the gap in the wall that provided the only egress from the dilapidated room.</p><p>“Where do you go?” He asked, watching as David landed and assumed a more human gait. He wore the resigned look he always had when he returned to the cave to find Michael there waiting. His hair was damp with a film of salt water; blood stained his fingertips, reddened his lips.</p><p>“Where do you think I go?”  </p><p>When he didn’t respond, David smiled. “Not so eager to think about the details, huh?”</p><p>“How often do you have to do it?”</p><p>“How often do I <em>have </em>to?” David said harshly, “I don’t have to do anything, Michael. I <em>want </em>to.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“No,” David sighed, pressing his fingers into his temples, “not really.” He turned to face away from Michael. All his bluster, all his bravado had instantly evaporated, and what was left behind was something small and alone.</p><p>“Why are you still here, Michael?” David’s voice was soft now. “What do you want from me?”</p><p>“You know what I want.”</p><p>“I know what you think you want.”</p><p>“I want <em>you</em>, David.”</p><p>David sighed again at that, still facing the wall. He took a deep breath, a strangely human gesture. One that he had rarely affected in Michael’s presence. Finally, he turned around and fixed Michael with a hesitant, almost curious look. “Do you?”  </p><p>Michael stared, surprised by David’s expression. He looked…vulnerable for a split second. When he didn’t react, David began to shake his head, as if disappointed, “Didn’t think so—”</p><p>Michael pressed their lips together, cutting him off. Started to kiss him, hands gripping, pulling him closer. David’s lips were cold but surprisingly soft.  </p><p>He felt like he was floating again, like the ground might come hurtling towards him at any moment.</p><p>Gasping for breath, he kissed him harder, trying to get a reaction. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, that David was letting him. And then, finally, David started to respond, meeting Michael’s mouth with a crush of lips, of cold, sharp teeth.</p><p>After a moment, David pulled away and tilted his head to the side. “Ever done this before? With a guy?” </p><p>Michel shook his head, breathing heavily. “Thought about it, thought about you<em>.</em>”</p><p>“I’ll bet.” A ghost of David’s old smugness had reappeared, sending a chill down Michael’s spine.</p><p>He hesitated for a moment and then he was laying kisses on David’s lips, his neck, his chin, fingers clutching at the back of his head. David’s jaw was rough with stubble, his Adam’s apple protruded, breaking the line of his throat; it was nothing like kissing a girl. Up close, David smelled musky, like smoke and leather, metallic. Excitement raced through Michael when he felt something rumble, deep and low, in David’s chest. “Fuck,” he slowed down, breathing in deeply, dizzy with the heady, masculine scent, with the unexpected power and shape of his own arousal.</p><p>David yanked his chin up, gloved hands twisting around his curls. Michael met his eyes, brazen all of a sudden, thrilling at his touch, at the unfamiliar cravings that were rising up, unmistakable, in him again. He wondered what he might become under David’s sure hands, under his gaze.</p><p>“Get on the bed.” David sounded almost like his old self, confident and in charge, like he was going to let Michael in on some great secret if only he had the nerve to follow him. If he didn’t chicken out this time.</p><p>He scrambled onto the mattress, eager but unsure of what to do, how to arrange himself. He sat back on his ankles and watched as David shucked off his jacket, reached down to pull off the black shirt he wore underneath. David’s torso was pale, roped with lean, hard muscles. A trail of surprisingly dark hair wound its way down past the black jeans that sat low on his hips. David lowered himself onto the bed, arranging his legs to straddle Michael’s own. He tugged open Michael’s fly and wrapped his hand around his cock, giving it a few unceremonious pulls. The fabric of his gloves was unforgiving against the delicate skin, but it didn’t matter, he hardened almost instantly, filling out into David’s fist. “Look at me,” David whispered, his voice rough. Taking a deep breath, Michael met his eyes; now he was the one pinned like a butterfly.</p><p>With a crooked grin, David gave him another squeeze and then let go, leaving him panting. David leaned back on the mattress, his smile turning lazy, amused. “Well, Michael, if you want something, you’ll have to learn to take it.”</p><p>Michael flushed as he took in the creature spread out in front of him, solid and powerful, a reminder of every glance he had ever stolen, of a long line of muscled arms and broad chests and slim hips. But also utterly singular: the only object of his scrutiny and desire now, his obsession, so distant and out of reach that he sometimes wondered if he was dreaming, if he was still dreaming. He worried that David might disappear if he touched him, a mirage, a pathetic delusion. Might laugh and change his mind, push him away, revolted. Their thighs were touching as David watched him impatiently, waiting. He could practically taste the word “coward” on his lips.</p><p>Swallowing his fear, he leaned down, gripping David’s biceps, feeling the rigid muscles tense under his fingers. He began to kiss down his throat, moving to his collar bones, licking and biting at the sharp diagonals that jutted across his chest, tentatively at first and then more boldly. A shiver of amazement ran through him as he felt David’s nipples grow rigid where he brushed against them. He was becoming breathless now, was sweating as he tried to draw a response. Soon he had lost track of everything but the skin and muscles and bones beneath his lips, his fingers. He wanted to gather them up, keep them close.</p><p>David shifted below him, shimmying off his pants. His cock jutted up obscenely. “Come on, Michael,” his voice was low and controlled as he spread his legs open wider, an invitation.    </p><p>Michael stilled, his heart racing. This wasn’t how he had expected things to go.</p><p>With a sharp look, David lifted Michael’s hands to his mouth and began to suck on his fingers. His tongue was rough and wet, his mouth not warm but not cold either; his eyes never left Michael’s. He could feel his pulse jump under the pads of David’s fingers. Wordlessly, David guided his slick fingers down, daring him to push inside. Breath catching in his chest, Michael pressed at the muscle, surprised at the ease with which his finger slipped in. He tried to reconcile David’s hard exterior with the way this hidden surface yielded under the slightest pressure. David’s eyes shone up at him inscrutably. Encouraged, Michael added another finger, then another. His head spun as the other boy’s body opened up, crumbled under his touch. He moved his fingers around, searching blindly, seeking correspondences between his gestures and the minute reactions that played, obscurely, across David’s features.</p><p>“Stop wasting my time,” David hissed finally, “can’t hurt me, Michael. Do it.”</p><p>Michael spat on his palm as best he could, but his mouth was dry. He lined himself up, shaking. When he finally pressed in, David gasped, his eyes fluttered shut. “Good boy,” David dug fingers into his back, urging him to move.</p><p>His heart was racing again; he felt like he was being swallowed whole. Waves of pleasure, almost painful, washed over him with each slow thrust. There was too much friction and, somehow, not enough. He needed to be closer; every hollow and space that remained between them gaped painfully. Tendrils of bleach blonde hair clung to David’s neck, meeting the shadow of stubble that dusted over his jaw, that framed the cupid’s bow of his lips. Stripped of the bulky layers of black and leather that usually enveloped his body, he was slender, almost delicate. Holding David tightly, Michael sank deeper, afraid that he might slip away if he let go.</p><p>But the slightness of David’s build belied the incredible strength that pressed up, immovable and dangerous, beneath Michael’s weight. And then David started to push back: domineering, insatiable, bottomless. His skin was still cool to the touch, but his body was moving now, demanding more. His legs clamped around Michael and their chests and hips slid together wildly, bones bruising skin.</p><p>Michael tried not to come, wanting to draw out this feeling forever, still hardly believing it was real. As they rocked together, he was astonished at his own boldness, at the extent of his need.</p><p>Finally, David’s eyes squeezed shut and a pained expression contorted his features. “Harder,” he groaned, voice raw. David clenched tightly around him as he came. Michael watched in awe as David arched back, his mouth slightly open, slack, his eyes closed gently now. He looked as beautiful, as ethereal as he had impaled and illuminated, dead to the world. Michael fell on him desperately, filled again with the inhuman grief he had felt when he thought that David was dead. He sped up, hunting his own completion, his own absolution as he felt David pulse around him.</p><p>This was everything that he had wanted, but it wasn’t enough. “Need more,” Michael gasped, burying his face into the softness of David’s hair. He could hear David’s face shift, could hear bones cracking and rearranging, fangs extending. A treacherous part of him bristled with excitement.</p><p>But then David tensed and went still, pushing himself away with trembling hands. When he looked up at Michael, his face appeared human again, defenseless. Michael met his gaze, unable to breathe. They stared at each other silently, keeping vigil over something delicate that had appeared between them, something unanticipated and infinitely fragile. It was like a soap bubble, stretching and undulating as it hovered in the air, glistening hypnotically. It was volatile and brief; it left behind a residue of meager, broken shapes that read like tea leaves. Michael’s cock lay achingly hard and red where their hips were still joined together. David smiled sadly, penitent, and reached down to grasp him, his hand still hidden in leather. He ran his other hand lightly up and down Michael’s back, skimming the muscles of his shoulders, the ridge of his spine, the curve of his ass. When Michael’s orgasm finally came, it hit him like the undertow of a wave, strong and sudden. </p><p>__</p><p>They didn’t have sex again. David still brought him food and kept him company as they sat locked in their stalemate. He still left the hotel almost every night, coming back flecked with blood, looking wretched but a little more alive.</p><p>His movements were so much quieter and more contained without the rest of the boys flocking around him, without the soundtrack of jangling, clinking metal that used to shadow their motions, without the laughter and taunting that always bounced back and forth between them. Their absence remained palpable, hanging heavy in the airless expanse of the cave.</p><p>“Do you miss them?” Michael asked one night, eating what was left of a slice of pepperoni pizza. “I do,” he added quietly, not daring to look up. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, why he was picking at this wound.</p><p>“Fuck you.” David’s eyes glittered dangerously.</p><p>“Well, I do,” Michael said, miserable, “I did. How can I ever forgive myself? They were my…brothers. Weren’t they? Almost?” The words tumbled out before he could think better of it.</p><p>David snorted.</p><p>“I felt them die, David, like it was happening to me. Before I even really knew them.”</p><p>“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” His voice was careful, like a dam holding back a flood.</p><p>“So, tell me! David, I can’t live like this. Please…”</p><p>“You can’t live like this?” David exploded, “You don’t understand anything. You have no fucking clue what they were to me, what bound us together. Fuck you, Michael.”</p><p>David stormed out of the room, not returning until the sun forced him to seek shelter again.</p><p>__</p><p>“Fine.” David’s voice cut through the silence the next evening, waking him.</p><p>Before Michael could even prop himself up, David was on top of him. “You want this?” He leaned closer, his eyes flashing, almost wet, glistening, as his face shifted into its true form. The room was pitch black, lit only by the yellow glow of his stare. He drew a claw across his wrist. “Fine. Take it.”  </p><p>Michael’s eyes widened with disbelief. He stared at the blood bubbling up from the cut, unable to move. In the dark, David appeared faint and unreal, almost like an apparition. </p><p>“Didn’t think so,” David laughed bitterly, disappointed again, “<em>Coward</em>.”</p><p>Acting on impulse, Michael grabbed David’s wrist and pressed it to his lips with a defiant look. As soon as the blood hit his tongue, all of the instincts, memories, desires that he had known before came rushing back all at once. It was nothing like the stale, dilute mixture that he had drunk, unwittingly, from the jeweled bottle. Straight from the source, the blood was alive: magnetic and ambrosial. But as he drank, the pleasure turned quickly to desperation. He sucked harder, teeth gnashing, searching for bone. He forgot who he was, forgot David, forgot about everything else. He was writhing and crying by the time David wrenched him away. David wrapped his inhumanly strong arms around him, holding him until he finally fell lax.</p><p>The change was quicker this time, like his body remembered. Within minutes he could feel the ghost of fangs pierce his gums, could feel his stomach cramp and throb. He welcomed the pain, proof of his allegiance to David, his belonging, his absolution.</p><p>__</p><p>“Hungry?” David was still holding Michael in his arms, running a bare hand along the side of his face with a tenderness that would have shocked him before. But now he just hummed, leaning mindlessly into the sensation. He felt himself bound totally by David’s touch, bound by the instincts and drives blossoming within him. It was different from how he had felt last time, confused, cut off from his maker, unsure of what he was, what he wanted, what he <em>needed</em>. But now he knew, wasn’t fighting it, wasn’t confused. It felt like coming home, but also like floating away. His connection to David was all-consuming; he could feel his very being rearranged and remade under its influence. Now the hunger was crystal clear, diamond hard, entrancing.</p><p>“Should wait,” David whispered, not unsympathetically, “give it some time.”</p><p>“Don’t want to,” Michael was delirious, twisting and pressing against David’s arms, “need it.”</p><p>“Well, you can’t go out looking like this,” David said with an amused smile. Then he leaned in to lap up the blood that was staining Michael’s chin, that had dried into dark flakes crusted around his lips. Michael sighed happily, unphased by the animal gesture, by the newness of this intimacy. He couldn’t even begin to describe how good David smelled to him now; he wanted to burrow himself under his skin, to live there forever. Once he had finished cleaning him up, David gently drew Michael’s hair out of his eyes, arranging it carefully. Michael stared back at him, lightheaded and brimming with bone-deep devotion. He was sure that if David stopped touching him, he would dissolve.</p><p>They wound their way out from the bowels of the hotel, David helping him make his way. He was clumsy and unsure; the instincts that were growing inside him didn’t make sense yet. David got on his bike and Michael wrapped his arms around his waist, unthinkingly pressing his face into the nape of his neck. As they drove out, he lost himself again in the rumble of the Triumph between his legs, in the rich, primal scent of his maker. He was blind to the night sky, the moon, the stars, insensate to the sound and smell of waves crashing against the shore.</p><p>Soon they were out near an old camping ground in the woods inland from Santa Carla. David cut the engine and helped him down. He swayed a little, dizzy with hunger, with the vastness of the night stretching out around them. David paused, closing his eyes and sniffing the air. “<em>This way,</em>” he pressed the order into Michael’s mind, nodding towards a nearby camp site. All the thoughts that were swirling through his head resolved suddenly into a single, ineluctable sense of direction as he followed David into the clearing.</p><p>There was a couple asleep in their tent, a duet of pulses: slow, steady. He knew, inexplicably, that there was no one else within earshot. They were alone.</p><p>David turned to him, his expression almost sad as he reached up, sliding his thumb across Michael’s cheek. He shivered at the feel of his maker’s skin against his own, warmer now than he had remembered. “<em>Ready?</em>” David asked silently. Michael nodded, mesmerized by the song of the two heartbeats.</p><p>It was happening so quickly again; it felt unreal. It was like he was observing himself from a distance, shocked at what he was about to do but unable to intervene. He was a good person, not a cold-blooded killer. But he knew that wasn’t really true anymore, not since he had drunk so eagerly, greedily from David’s wrist, like he had something to prove. He couldn’t pretend that he hadn’t asked for this, not this time. This was what he had <em>wanted</em>.</p><p>David bent down to pick up a rock from the ground near where they were standing. He tossed it over to the clearing by the tent’s opening. A light flicked on inside the tent and the couple began to argue in hushed tones. David threw another rock in the same direction. The sound of a zipper opening cut through the night. The smell of blood and fear that washed over Michael as the man stepped out to investigate the noise was absolute. Without another thought, he was flying through the air, launching himself at his prey.   </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>David watched as his halfling moved impossibly fast, acting on instinct alone. The man didn’t see it coming, didn’t stand a chance. Neither did Michael. Within seconds, he had pushed the man onto the ground and ripped into his throat. Was sucking frantically, growling, claws digging into skin as he sought purchase.   </p><p>He had dreamt of this moment since he had set his sights on Michael. Had imagined it, how delicious it would be, how much he would enjoy it. But the reality was bittersweet. When they first met, he had long forgotten what it was like to live without the constant, insatiable hunger. The hunger that twisted you into a new shape, that kept twisting you until you learned to live with it, until you became someone, something, that could live with it. Had forgotten the gruesome truth that lurked below the compact that joined him to Dwayne, to Marko and Paul, the truth that their companionship held at bay.</p><p>He hadn’t wanted that for Michael in the end. But it was too late now, probably had been since the moment that Michael had brought him back to the hotel and foolishly sliced himself open. Since Michael had refused to leave, had stuck himself, thorn-like, in his side, a constant and painful reminder of how completely alone he was without his boys. Without Max, even. Since Michael had watched him return to the hotel every night with blood caked under his fingernails, stinking of death.   </p><p>It was too late and he was too weak. As he drank in the sight of his halfling, wild, mindless with bloodlust, David couldn’t help but smile. Michael was glorious like this. His jaws snapped noisily around the man’s neck as he dug in, rapacious, grunting savagely, blood gurgling around his mouth, overflowing. It was a sight to behold. David would be lying if he were to pretend that he didn’t delight in seeing Michael give in to his altered nature, into his basest appetites, become <em>like him</em>. Depraved, vicious, remorseless<em>.</em> No, not remorseless, not yet. But lost just the same.</p><p>The woman tried to escape, tried to make a run for it from the tent, but David caught her easily, held her easily. Soon Michael had drained the man. He looked up then, seeking out his maker, his blood-covered face illuminated by the moonlight. His boyish features had been warped into a grotesque mask, harder, more distinct than the last time he had changed, when Max’s blood had run, weak and adulterated, through his veins. His eyes glittered emptily from the shadows beneath his brow. His chest heaved as he licked at his lips, searching for more.</p><p>David was, as always, right. He knew how to pick them, how to guide them, to teach them. Michael was a killer, would always be a killer now.</p><p>“Michael,” he breathed, giddy, “want more?” The newly-turned vampire was on the woman in an instant, tearing into her throat. David leaned in, stroking Michael’s hair as he drank, admiring the angles of the boy’s new face, savoring the smell of blood, damp and fresh, that hung in the air around them. “Good, huh?”</p><p>David kept running his fingers through Michael’s hair as he finished drinking, dropped the woman and fell sobbing against his maker’s chest. Didn’t stop when he cried out in pain as his heart gave out, as his last breath was forced from his lungs, as what remained of his humanity drained from him as surely as he had drained the two bodies that lay, bloodied and mangled, around them. David stayed there, silent, soothing his fledgling as the moon began to dip lower in the night sky.</p><p>When Michael came back to himself, his face was smooth and human-seeming again, but stained with blood, queasy with the realization of what he had done.   </p><p>“Time to go,” David hoisted himself up quickly, offering Michael a hand, “sun’s up soon.” He wrapped his arm around the new vampire’s shoulder, not giving him a chance to turn around, to face the bloodbath behind them. As he led Michael away, he felt a measure of relief, the weight of his own affliction already a little bit lighter.</p><p>“I thought I would feel different.” Michael’s voice was quiet, unhappy.</p><p>“Yeah, well, you don’t.” David was silent for a moment as he fiddled with his bike, getting it ready for the trip back home. “But you become different,” he continued, measuring his words, “eventually.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Going stir-crazy during stay-at-home; comments are a very welcome distraction!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Intersubjectivity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well, that was fun. Ended up getting a little longer than I had originally planned.  </p><p>(Watch out for spoilers in the end notes.)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Michael felt a slight disequilibrium as he watched David leap down from where they were perched, upside down, in the recesses of the cave’s vaulting. The world was inverted: the ground hung over his head, up was down, dark was light.</p><p>But the unsteadiness was fleeting. Without further thought, he released himself from where he hung and drifted down after David. His feet seamlessly returned to their human guise as if it was the most natural thing in the world, as if he had done it countless times before. He remembered, now, returning to the hotel, sailing back into its underground depths. He had barely noticed the obstacles that had been insurmountable when he was human, that he had stumbled over when he was still half. Sleep had come easily too, though the peacefulness of it had surprised him. Dreams, insomnia, restlessness: these were all human habits. He had been dead to the world as soon as his eyes closed.</p><p>David radiated excitement as he beckoned him forward. Michael trailed his maker out to the lobby, unbothered by the darkness in which they flew.</p><p>“You’re a natural, Michael,” David grinned, looking back to watch how gracefully his fledgling moved through the air. “Bravo.”</p><p>Michael returned the grin, unconsciously warming with David’s praise. But his smile faltered as his mind began to slowly fill back up with memories, bits and pieces of his first hunt coming back to him in graphic detail. He swallowed it down; it was too late for second thoughts.    </p><p>“Drink up,” David tossed him a flask, as if sensing his distress, “tonight we celebrate.”</p><p>Michael sniffed at the metal container: whisky. He tipped it back, enjoying the burn of the liquor. It was hot and harsh on his tongue. “So, what are we doing?” His voice sounded strange to his ears, too resonant, almost hollow. It was unnerving to hear himself talk even though he would never need to take another breath again.</p><p>“Whatever we want.” David’s smile was wide, unwavering. “Hungry?”</p><p>Michael choked, liquid catching in his throat. He thought about it. The hunger that had roared to life the night before was still there, quietly simmering. Violent images flickered, unbidden, through his mind, tempting and exciting. He shuddered. “Yeah, a little.”</p><p>David curled an arm around his waist, drawing him in close. Now the chill of their skin matched; the perfect stillness of their hearts beat as one. They were the same. It was a cold comfort, but comforting nonetheless. David’s smile remained staunch, growing wider still. He felt himself get swept up in the sheer force of the other vampire’s good mood. “Don’t worry, Michael,” David brought his lips to his ear, lingering over his name, “you’re gonna enjoy this. Trust me.”</p><p>__</p><p>They started the night at a dive bar a few towns over. Michael rode on the back of David’s bike again. They went faster than before, faster even than they had gone on the night of that fateful race, heedless of mortal danger.</p><p>Once they had dismounted, David wound his fingers around the back of Michael’s neck, bringing their faces close again. “Have to find you a new bike, if you’re gonna keep up with me.”</p><p>He stuck to David's side once they made it inside. The sound of heartbeats and the smell of blood washed over him. “Steady,” David held his gaze, “I got you.” The rush of pulses receded, became quieter.</p><p>People instinctively moved to avoid them as they made their way to the bar. This seemed to make David even happier and he swaggered through the crowd, a friendly arm draped around Michael's shoulder. He caught the bartender’s eye immediately. “Two whiskeys,” he held up his fingers to indicate what kind of a pour he was expecting, “and keep them coming, friend.”</p><p>“Now,” David leaned back casually once they had slid into a booth, “how’re you feeling?” His bleach blonde hair dusted his jacket, the black layers heavy and stark against his pale face. Michael noticed that his earring was still missing, although his hands were hidden away again in the leather gloves that he favored. </p><p>“Strange,” he admitted. Even though the pull of the blood had ebbed a little, being around so many people made it impossible to forget what he was now, how different. How dangerous. He found himself amazed that he had ever thought that David was human.   </p><p>“You’ll get used to it.” David paused and then raised his glass to make a toast. “Here’s to you, Michael.” He leaned in closer, clinking their glasses together, holding eye contact. “To us.”</p><p>The intensity that had first drawn him to David was unveiled now, blatant. After they had both taken a drink, David put down his glass and trailed a finger along Michael’s jaw. The leather was smooth, slick against his skin. Ever since they’d woken up, David had been all over him, touching, looking. Like he belonged to him, like he was his to do with whatever he wanted. Like he didn’t have to bother holding back anymore.</p><p>Michael wondered if he was blushing. Realized with a start that he probably couldn’t, not anymore. “Won’t someone see?” he asked instead.</p><p>“Not if I don’t want them to,” David said, smug. “<em>I told you, we can do whatever we want.</em>” The words resounded silently in Michael’s mind.</p><p>“How did you do that?” he gasped.</p><p>David just smiled enigmatically, holding a finger to his lips and raising his eyebrows. “<em>Now you try.</em>”</p><p>He remembered now that David had pushed a thought or two into his mind the previous night. He had been so out of it that he hadn’t even realized the words hadn’t been spoken aloud. He tried to push those memories away, concentrating on David, separating him out from the dull buzz of humanity around them. “<em>Like this?</em>”</p><p>“<em>See, you’re a natural.</em>” Another hint of pride swelled in David’s eyes.</p><p>“<em>Holy shit! That' so cool.</em>” Michael grinned as the speech came more easily, instantly felt almost like second nature, as simple as sleeping perched upside down had been. “<em>Wait</em>, <em>so does this mean you can read my mind?</em>”</p><p>David shrugged, speaking aloud again, “Pretty much, but you’ll get the hang of keeping me out, when you want to. It’s handy in the beginning though.” He took a long sip from his glass. “See that guy?” He pointed to a nervous-looking man at the bar.</p><p>Michael nodded. The guy was probably in his mid-twenties and kept glancing at the door as he nursed his beer.</p><p>“Okay, focus on his heartbeat. Do you hear it? Concentrate on the rhythm.”</p><p>The man’s pulse became louder in his head, singled out, rousing the hunger that coiled in his stomach. Michael felt pressure start to build in his skull, felt his gums throb.</p><p>“Hold your horses,” David chuckled, placing a hand over Michael’s own, his grip gentle but firm; it was oddly calming. “Now try to sense his emotions. What is he feeling right now?”</p><p>The beat of the man’s heart began to resolve into recognizable emotions, almost like distinct colors or sounds. “Oh, wow,” Michael said, reeling, “he’s anxious. Like he’s waiting for someone? And maybe a little excited too. Sexually. I think he’s also frightened or maybe worried about something.”</p><p>“Good. Now focus on those feelings, try to…attune yourself to them. Faster if you can catch his eye or something, though that’s probably not a good idea right now. Just work on listening.”</p><p>All of a sudden, the man’s inner monologue was echoing in Michael’s head, clear as day. He was waiting for a date. A redhead he had met a party. The man was oscillating between frustration that she was late and graphic images of what he wanted to do with her in bed. He was distracted by a burly man at the other end of the bar, who he thought had given him a weird look. Thought maybe he could see the outline of a gun in the guy’s pocket.</p><p>David squeezed his palm, drawing his attention back. The man’s thoughts faded away, folding back into the steady beat of his pulse, and then resolving into the vague din of the room.</p><p>Michael’s eyes widened. “I can just do that with anyone?”</p><p>“You can do more than that, once you get the hang of it.” David lit a cigarette. “You can nudge people’s thoughts in one direction or another, get them to do what you want them to do, see what you want them to see,” he grinned, “or not see.”</p><p>Michael laughed in disbelief. That kind of power could really go to your head. He thought back to the incident with the Chinese food, understanding dawning on him.</p><p>“Like I told you, it comes in handy.” David took a long drag. “Can be pretty fun too.” He glanced over to the bartender, raising two fingers with a nod. Soon the man was bringing over a tray with two more whiskeys, poured to the brim.</p><p>“Here you go, Dave,” the bartender’s eyes briefly flickered over to Michael, fixing him with an odd look, “you let me know if you need anything else.”</p><p>David winked and watched him leave, before turning back to Michael. “Dave,” he repeated as if it was the most hilarious thing in the world, widening his eyes and pressing his lips together with amusement. He said it like he was letting Michael in on some big joke at the guy’s expense.</p><p>Michael downed what was left of his drink and held up the new one, clinking glasses with David, “<em>To us.</em>” He blinked in amazement, delighted with how easy it was to communicate silently. His smile grew as David returned his gaze with a level of complicity and affection that went beyond anything he could have even imagined. This was what he had been missing, what had been drawing him like a moth to a flame.</p><p>They talked as they drank their way through more alcohol than Michael remembered consuming in his entire life. He knew he should be blacked out, but instead he just felt pleasantly buzzed, loose and at ease. They dissolved into fits of laughter as Michael practiced invading the minds of the people around them. He preened under David’s attention, happy to finally be at his side. Gone was the caginess, the distance that had shadowed the vampire since he’d been brought back. He seemed like his old self, magnetic and exacting, dangerous and alluring. Only now he happily pulled back the curtain, exchanging confidences, seeming to hold nothing back. As they polished off glass after glass of the best bourbon that the dive had on hand, it was easy to forget the bloody secret that now bound them together. </p><p>“So, see anything you like?” David’s voice changed suddenly, becoming insinuating, “Anyone?”</p><p>Michael started as the reality of the situation returned to him all at once.</p><p>“Michael,” David murmured, easy, goading, “don’t chicken out on me.”</p><p>He downed what was left of his drink, enjoyment gone. “I just…” he trailed off, his thoughts blurring together uncomfortably, hunger and guilt, a knee-jerk revulsion at all the things that he couldn’t help but imagine as his eyes scanned the room. “I guess I thought that I wouldn’t still…feel so bad about it. After last night.”</p><p>The smile that David had been wearing all night started to slip. He leaned forward on his elbows, narrowing his eyes. “Too late for all that now.”</p><p>David had tried to warn him, Michael realized, but he’d refused to hear it.</p><p>He remained silent. He knew, deep down, that he wouldn’t be able to resist the hunger that was rising up in him for long. He had felt so good feeding from that couple at the campgrounds. But as soon as it was over…he had taken two lives without a thought. He had practically gloried in it, their fear and pain only heightening his arousal. Just thinking about it sent a shiver of anticipation through his body. He looked around miserably at the people that surrounded them, innocently going about their lives, none the wiser.</p><p>“Stop thinking that you’re one of them.” David continued, reading his mind. “You’re not, not anymore.” His eyes flashed amber. “Your conscience,” he sneered, “is like a bad habit. A useless, vestigial organ that gets in the way when it acts up. The sooner you forget about it, the better.”</p><p>Michael tried to imagine what that would be like, forgetting. “What about, like, just going after bad guys. You know? Can’t you read their minds, find the rapists, abusers—”</p><p>“You’re at the top of the food chain now, Michael,” David cut him off. “When you were human did you only eat the really mean cows? The pigs that deserved it?” His voice grew mocking, “What, you want to dress up and play Batman? Judge, jury, and executioner? You think that’s better? Give me a break.”</p><p>David leaned in, even closer now, and the rest of the room dulled, faded from view. “You and me, Michael. That’s it. That’s all that matters. Not gonna let you starve, not gonna let you torture yourself.”</p><p>With that, David stubbed out the cigarette that had been dangling, forgotten, from his fingers. “If you don’t want to find someone to eat here, fine. Probably a bad idea anyway. We can’t really hang out at the boardwalk while your…family is still around, so it’s better not to burn our bridges. I actually kind of like this place.” He stood up. “Let’s go.” It wasn’t a request. Michael followed David out the door and back into the night.</p><p>__</p><p>Michael’s stomach twisted as they walked down to the beach. He thought that maybe it would subside once they left the bar, got away from the crowd gathered inside, but instead it had grown worse. It wasn’t just physical. He could barely recognize the thoughts running through his head; it was like they belonged to someone else. But they were becoming familiar already, comfortable.</p><p>“See them?” David pointed to a couple of guys sitting around a dying bonfire. There was nobody else around for miles. “They’re dinner.”  </p><p>A sudden wave of nausea competed with the ever-present hunger as he thought about what he was about to do, what that made him. How was he even considering this?</p><p>David took his head into his hands and began rubbing circles into his jaw, coaxing him like he was a skittish animal. “<em>Michael</em>,” he said soothingly, pressing the words into his mind, “<em>don’t deny yourself</em>.” Michael shivered as David’s face shifted into its true form, the look of concern resolving into something hard and ruthless. Something he understood now, but that he couldn’t find words to describe. He remembered when he had first seen David as he was now that night on the beach. The terror he had felt when the boys started to transform around him, convulsing wildly, working themselves up into a frenzy. The excitement.</p><p>“<em>Show me</em>,” David burrowed sharpened fingertips into the nape of his neck, “<em>stop holding back</em>.” Michael leaned into the prickling sensation, overcome suddenly by the warm feeling of belonging that David’s glowing eyes promised. His face settled into its new, predatory shape as he gave in to the instincts that had been roiling just below the surface all night. A feeling of relief flooded through him, moving deep into his chest. He hadn’t even realized how tense he had been, how tightly he had been holding on to his human appearance. He was smiling as his incisors sharpened and extended, as the qualms that had been clouding his mind faded away. Everything became crisp and clear: the vast expanses of the night sky, the distinct smells and sounds of the beach, the proximity of his maker. The difference between him and his prey.</p><p>He started to laugh, giddy with the feelings of power and want and anticipation that were rising up in him, electric. As David joined in, they descended together into paroxysms of laughter. Every time their eyes met, it came harder, growing beyond the thin contours of each of their bodies into something shared and immense. He was seething with excitement now; he could practically feel the way skin would bend and break under his fangs, could taste the flow of blood on his tongue.</p><p>Michael was startled to realize that he had moved in, was holding one of the guys tightly against his chest. The man was screaming, writhing uselessly against his captor. Without thinking, he drew a hand over his mouth, silencing him. His claws had already extended and were drawing blood where they dug into the man’s cheek. David had knocked out another one of the guys and had the last one trapped in his own arms. He looked at his fledgling and his smile turned abruptly blank. “<em>Dig in, Michael.</em>” With that, David ripped into the man’s throat, letting out a low, guttural sound as the blood began to flow into his mouth. The smell was too much for Michael to resist, and soon he was lost in the ecstasy of feeding. It was as good as he had remembered, better even; he wondered distantly why he had been so concerned.</p><p>As he came back to himself, he was horrified to find a drained corpse clutched against his chest. But before he could surrender to the pangs of conscience that were rising up, David’s hands were on him again. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” David asked, his voice deep, blood dripping from his fangs. Michael dropped the body as his vision began to swim, his thoughts becoming fuzzy and blunted. The other vampire's arousal powerfully impressed itself upon him, permeating his senses. Instinctively, he reached up and brought David's lips to his own, tonguing at the warm blood that still coated his mouth. Blood fresh from the kill pooled in his groin and their kisses grew deeper, more urgent. David slipped his hand down Michael’s pants. Soon he was rutting into his maker’s hand, moaning as David brought him off, all thoughts of guilt or remorse momentarily forgotten. He came with a shudder, pressed against hard muscle and leather.</p><p>The silence was broken when the man that David had knocked out started to come to. Before he could really scream, David had him pressed into the ground, hand sealed over his mouth. He nodded at the other side of the guy’s throat before tearing in. Michael moved slower, lazy with the afterglow of his orgasm. His mouth watered as he slid his fangs in. David’s proximity heightened the experience, his pleasure added to his own. As the man’s heart gave out, David reached his own climax and fell, boneless, against Michael, heavy and hot with the stolen blood. Breathing in David’s scent, he was hit with a wave of foreign emotions, a bare but glittering outline of his maker’s thoughts. He realized, all at once, that this was the first time since David had come back that he had really let himself enjoy feeding.</p><p>__</p><p>It wasn’t until a few nights later that he had the wherewithal to try to stop. David’s delight was too infectious to resist at first, his hand too firm.</p><p>“This is pointless, Michael,” David said impatiently, “you have to feed.” He stood with his arms crossed, towering over his fledgling, who sat curled up against the fountain.   </p><p>Michael didn’t reply. He just hugged his knees harder into his chest, staring down at the dirty floor of the sunken hotel. He wasn’t going to give in again, he couldn’t. He vividly recalled every ounce of fear he had seen in the eyes of his prey; the strangled sounds of their cries echoed in his mind.</p><p>He shoved down the part of him that was perking up just thinking about it.</p><p>“Look, I get it,” David continued, cajoling, “you aren’t used to this yet. It takes time. But I’m here with you, I’ll help you through it every step of the way.” He paused, looking searchingly into the shadows. “Michael, it feels good doesn’t it? Drinking warm and rich, straight from the source. Fills you right up, like you could drown in it.” He knelt down, running his hands through Michael’s hair, caressing the  arc of his jaw. “Don’t you want to taste it again? Nothing else in the world is as good.” He leaned even closer, touching his lips to Michael’s temple, trailing a hand around his shoulder, sliding it down his back. “You’ll forget all about this the second it’s on your tongue. I’ll make it so good for you.”</p><p>Michael swallowed, willing his fangs not to descend, ignoring the hardness growing between his legs. His claws were cutting painfully into his palms. He pressed his forehead against his knees.</p><p>David shook his head with frustration. “You're being a baby.” He got up and started to pace, weaving his way around the jumble of scraps that decorated the lobby. Starfish and shards of glass swayed around him as he circled his wayward fledgling.</p><p>Michael just shrugged, knowing how ridiculous he must seem to the other vampire. He couldn’t hide anything from him. David knew exactly how much he had enjoyed himself last night. And the night before that. And before that.</p><p>Finally, David gave him one last glare and then turned on his heel and left. When he returned from his hunt, blood stained his chin, dripped from his hands. He sank down next to Michael, leaning back with satisfaction as he slowly licked up the blood from his fingers, drawing it out, making a show of it. Michael suspected that David had gone out of his way to be messy, the better to torture him.</p><p>He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the smell as it wafted towards him. It had only been one night and already the coppery scent was like an oasis in the desert. Nothing he did could block out the waves of pleasure that emanated from his maker. He could picture David’s sensuous mouth wrapped around his fingers in his mind as clearly as if were to just open his eyes and let himself watch.</p><p>When Michael refused to hunt the next night, David became incensed.</p><p>“You can’t hold out forever.” David shoved him against the wall, baring his fangs. He held him there with his hands curled around Michael’s shirt, his face just inches away. “What do you think is going to happen? How do you think this little stunt is going to play out?”</p><p>“I don’t care,” Michael spat out, already weaker, unable to squirm away from where David held him, “I can’t keep doing it. It’s not right.” He thought about his family, his mother, forcing himself to imagine the horror that would replace her maternal love if she could see him now, if she were to meet the demon that he became each night at the throat of his prey.</p><p>“Not right? Don’t make me laugh.”</p><p>Michael just glared silently until, finally, David released him with a final shove and he crumpled against the wall.</p><p>“You think you’re so righteous, don’t you?” David loomed over him, his voice growing louder. “But I got news for you. You’re a hypocrite and you’re going to give in, just like everyone gives in. You’re not any different, so quit pretending that you are. This little tantrum of yours,” he gestured vaguely at Michael, “is bullshit. You know what you need.”</p><p>“That’s the last thing I need,” he replied stubbornly, “anyway, if you’re so intent on this, why don’t you just make me?” He remembered the orders that David had pressed into his mind the night of his first kill, remembered the way he had forced his hand the next night. David could make him do whatever he wanted; in truth, he had given up his free will the instant he had drunk from the vampire’s wrist. A sense of hopelessness descended on him as he realized that he was resisting only because David was letting him. He couldn’t understand why, but the truth of it rattled in his chest. He glared resentfully at the monster in front of him.</p><p>“I’m not a monster,” David’s voice was dangerously quiet, “and you need to figure this out for yourself.”</p><p>He stepped back then, lighting a cigarette and perching on the rusty old wheelchair, a complacent smile spreading across his face. “You’re not going to last, Michael,” he chuckled darkly, “just give in.” Crossing his legs, he leaned back and chain smoked his way through what was left of his pack.</p><p>By the fourth night, Michael was in bad shape. His skin had turned sallow and dark circles ringed his eyes. He hadn’t had the strength to reach the perch and had slept fitfully on the old mattress, tossing and turning as he struggled to get comfortable. He was sweating out whatever blood he had left, mind racing with images of slaughter, each more violent than the last.</p><p>David descended from the ceiling, looking smug and sated. He crouched down and studied his fledgling, shifting his blood-matted hair away from his forehead. Michael just shook, unable to string two thoughts together, unable to form words.</p><p>“<em>Michael</em>,” David took him into his arms, pressing the words into his mind, “<em>I don’t want to see you suffer like this.</em>” He tucked his head over Michael’s shoulder, running his hands up and down his back. “<em>I can make this stop, make everything better again. Just say the word.</em>” He stayed there, holding Michael silently until he began to come back to himself.</p><p>Finally, Michael nodded, giving in to his maker, to the relentless hunger that only grew stronger the more he tried to resist it.</p><p>“<em>That’s a good boy,</em>” David pulled him closer, “<em>don’t feel too bad, most don’t make it this long. Dwayne barely lasted two days. You almost have my own record beat.</em>” He sighed, “<em>Would have been so much easier for you if the boys were still around. Too bad. But we’re going to be fine, Michael, you and me. I’ll take care of you. Soon you'll forget all about this, soon it'll be so easy.</em>” The words washed over Michael, who was too far gone to really understand what he was saying. “<em>I’ll be right back,</em>” he continued soothingly, “<em>just hang in there.</em>”  </p><p>He quickly returned to the cave with a lone Surf Nazi in tow.</p><p>David was right, Michael thought once he had drunk his fill: it felt good, there was really nothing like it.</p><p>__</p><p>Nights started to blur together. Michael stopped trying to resist, but he still preferred to stalk his prey from afar, to hurtle through the air and swoop down, to surprise his victims with brutal but mercifully quick attacks. He still felt apprehensive before and remorseful afterwards. But it got easier and easier to remember how much he needed to feed, how good it would feel; harder to forget how much he enjoyed it, what that made him. David was always right there, by his side, goading him on, celebrating with him. They usually fucked afterwards, their bodies warmer, more responsive when flush with blood. Sometime feeding was enough to send an orgasm rocketing through him, sometimes all it took was David’s fangs in his neck, pulling the life out of him, offering it back to him with kisses that were dark and wet with blood, his own and David’s mixed together.</p><p>It wasn’t long before they grew bored with quick, impersonal hunts and began picking fights, began picking up girls. Michael had never been one to back down and it didn’t take much to nudge their quarry into starting something that they wouldn’t be able to finish. The blood on his fists tasted almost as good, whetting his appetite. It was even easier to find girls who would follow them to some remote corner of the beach. They could have anyone they wanted; they could read them like books, could mold their feelings and thoughts like wet clay. David had a thing for willowy brunettes, though he usually tired of them quickly. Michael found that it was getting harder for him to muster much real interest himself, but he enjoyed the pursuit more and more. The unappeasable, ceaseless rhythm of the hunt pushed them forward, propelling them from one night to the next.</p><p>Sometimes, it was a game: they competed for the prettiest girl, the fastest kill, the most kills, the most brutal kills. Sometimes, David just liked to watch as Michael found some girl, or better yet some guy, to lure into an alley or draw under the boardwalk. Michael had a knack for catching the eye of confused—or not so confused—guys, getting them comfortable and, if that didn’t work, bending them to his will. He would sink down to his knees and work up his prey, bringing them close before stealing their pleasure, swapping the softness of lips for the sting of his fangs. David always looked at him with satisfaction then, emerging from whatever shadows he had faded away into, lifting Michael up, taking him into his arms.</p><p>When they weren’t feeding or fucking, they stayed in a near constant state of intoxication. David always seemed to have something good, usually palmed off their prey, although he had a dealer or two at the ready. Liquor stores were even easier pickings: they didn’t show up on cameras or security mirrors. Nothing really fucked them up, but it was usually enough to muffle whatever inhibitions Michael had left, to keep a buzz going that rounded off the edges between kills.</p><p>Slowly, Michael became numb, became so numb that he no longer could remember feeling any other way. Stopped being able to recognize the numbness for what it was.</p><p>“<em>I like to see you like this</em>,” David whispered into his mind one night after a hunt, as he licked up the blood that coated Michael’s fingers, sucking on them, one by one.</p><p>“Like what?” Michael closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation.</p><p>“<em>Happy.</em>”  </p><p>Michael didn’t respond, keeping his eyes closed as David finished cleaning him off.</p><p>They were stretched out on the sand under the boardwalk. The roar of the ocean blocked out the sound of any nearby heartbeats, providing some respite from the blood that pumped freely through the crowds thronging the strip. Once in a while, though, they could hear the distant screams of thrill seekers on the great, looping rollercoaster that arched imposingly over the beach. They had to keep away from the boardwalk itself to avoid being seen by anyone who had known Michael in his previous life, that thought David was dead. But the strip was an ever-present backdrop, casting its unnatural glow over their movements, coloring their nights with its sickly, iridescent hues.</p><p>Michael lit a joint, his hands spotless now. He wondered if he was happy, if this was what happiness was. The rhythm of the waves was lulling, almost peaceful. David was pressed against his side, smoking in companionable silence. Fresh blood warmed his body, and he was already forgetting what his prey had looked like, how its screams had sounded. It was almost like it nothing had happened.</p><p>“Ever notice that we don’t have shadows?” Michael squinted into the distance, taking a long hit. “Wonder why that is.”</p><p>“Hmm,” David rolled his eyes, snatching the joint. Soon a plume of smoke twisted from his mouth, breaking up and dissolving as it floated away into the night, carried off by the ocean breeze. “Optics, gravity, death,” he waved his hand lazily, “doesn’t really apply.”</p><p>“It’s weird, though, isn’t it?” Michael’s eyes had begun to drift out of focus. “Like we don’t exist, like we’re not even here.”</p><p>“Don’t be morbid, Michael.”</p><p>The joint dwindled as they passed it back and forth. After a while, Michael curled into David’s side, pressing wet eyes against his shoulder. David just stared, unblinking, at the shafts of light filtering down through the boardwalk.</p><p>__</p><p>“Want a beer or something?” Michael grinned, nice and easy, at the guy they had brought back to the sunken hotel. He was around their age, or the age that they appeared, anyway. Was wearing a ripped-up shirt from some shitty metal band. Wasn’t a biker, but he had been managing some pretty impressive tricks on his skateboard when he had caught their eye.</p><p>“Sounds good, man.” The guy took in the chaotic ensemble of the lobby with an awed expression.</p><p>David finished lighting the oil barrels and slid into his chair, resting his chin on his gloved fist. “What do you think? This place was the hottest resort in Santa Carla about eighty-five years ago. Too bad they build it on the fault. When the big one hit San Francisco, the ground opened up and this place took a header right into the crack.”</p><p>“Now it’s ours,” Michael finished David’s spiel; he knew it by heart now. He passed some cans of Pabst around and joined the guy on the couch. As he cracked one open and took a swig, he remembered the first time that he had been invited into the lair. He had been so drawn to David, to the rest of the boys, had been dazzled by the way that they seemed to live, wild and free. He wondered if he would have done anything differently if he had known the truth back then.</p><p>“Wow, can’t believe you guys live here.”</p><p>“Well, we don’t exactly <em>live </em>here,” Michael practically giggled, exchanging a dark look with David. “Drink up, we got lots more in the back.”</p><p>They watched as the guy got drunker and drunker, making conversation over the music coming from the old boom box. He was fun enough, as far as humans went, but Michael’s patience was already wearing thin. “<em>Don’t know how much longer I can take this,</em>” he groaned, staring at the ceiling as the guy rambled on about some chick that he had tried to pick up earlier that night.</p><p>David chuckled softly, “<em>You’re the one who wanted to bring him back.</em>” An almost wistful expression passed over his face. It was the look he got when he was thinking about his boys.</p><p>“So, you said you had some chicks coming around later?” The guy asked, confused by David’s seemingly unprompted laughter. Michael sighed and dipped into his thoughts without any real curiosity: there was only one way this night was going to end. The guy was starting to get edgy and suspicious. It was late and he hadn’t counted on it just being the three of them.  </p><p>“Don’t worry, man,” Michael smiled coolly, putting a little extra force into his words, “we’re gonna have a real good time.”</p><p>“How about something a little stronger?” David pulled a joint from his pocket.</p><p>As they passed it around, Michael moved in closer. The smell of the guy’s blood was even more intoxicating than the weed that was winding its way through his system. He leaned back on the couch, savoring the moment.</p><p>The music stopped abruptly as the tape ran out, snapping the guy out of the thrall.</p><p>“Hey, man,” he said uncomfortably, noticing how close Michael had gotten, “gimme a little space here.”</p><p>“Now,” David frowned, “don’t be rude.”</p><p>“Just want you to feel welcome,” Michael added, starting to have fun again, “you’re our guest, after all.”</p><p>“It’s cool, I think I’ll just get go—”</p><p>The guy fell silent as he found himself suddenly trapped underneath Michael, who was straddling him now, pinning his shoulders to the couch with an unnaturally strong grip.</p><p>“David,” Michael leaned in to sniff at the man’s neck, “I think our friend here wants to leave.”</p><p>David got up from his chair, making his way slowly over to the pair on the couch, his stride commanding and inhumanly graceful. “Leave? But we’re just getting started.”</p><p>Michael smiled as David approached, letting his face shift. “Told you,” he growled through his fangs, his eyes lit up with amusement as the guy started to panic beneath him, “we’re gonna have a good time.”</p><p>“What…the fuck? What’s wrong with your face?” The guy tried to squirm away, fear and revulsion filling his eyes.</p><p>David ran his hand fondly along the pronounced ridge of Michael’s cheekbones, “Looks good to me.” Soon his face had transformed to match. Something deep in Michael’s chest sung out with pleasure and anticipation as they moved in on their prey in perfect unison.</p><p>“Just let me go. Please! I won’t tell anyone.”</p><p>“No,” Michael grinned wider, salivating as he looked down at the human shaking in his grip, “I don’t think you will.”</p><p>After they had finished him off, they stretched out together on the couch, sated and drowsy. Michael leaned back, resting his head against David's chest, feet callously propped up on what was left of the guy. “Shit, I didn’t even get his name this time,” he said, sounding almost disappointed.</p><p>David reached for the cigarette tucked behind his ear with a faint smile. “Oh well.” He took a drag and passed it to his fledgling. Michael rarely bothered to shift his features back after a kill these days and his face and fingers were still sticky with blood.  </p><p>After a while, Michael twisted up to look at David, sensing the direction of his thoughts. “You miss them, don’t you?”</p><p>“Who?” David’s voice instantly became tight.</p><p>He knew better than to bring them up. Sometimes a stray comment would remind David of Marko or he would remember how Paul or Dwayne would have enjoyed something and then he would become moody, fester and sulk for hours. Sometimes all it took was a particularly wild hunt or a really good party. David usually refused to talk about them, but he’d learned to recognize the signs easily enough.</p><p>The boys had been on Michael’s mind too. The more he let go of his humanity, the deeper he sunk into his new instincts, the more vividly he felt their absence.</p><p>“It’s like there’s something missing,” he said slowly, “I can still feel it.”</p><p>David lit another cigarette and smoked it almost all the way down. With his free hand he traced the contours of Michael’s face. He smeared his fingers in the blood that coated his fledgling’s chin, rubbing it into his skin with a tender, lulling motion.</p><p>“We can bring them back.” When he finally spoke, David’s voice was quiet, almost inaudible.</p><p>Michael scrambled up, “Are you serious?”</p><p>“Dead serious. You know how you resurrected me? Same principle. Blood for blood.”</p><p>His eyes widened with understanding. “So, mine worked on you because I’m the one who…” He trailed off, still unable to say the rest of the sentence aloud.</p><p><br/>“Yup. I’d say that two Frogs and your little brother should do the trick.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>“Welcome back to our little abode,” David said, relishing in the waves of terror that were rolling off of his prisoners. The three teens were tied up and gagged, blinking dumbly as they came to, unable to see anything in the pitch-black room. He hadn’t bothered lighting any fires. Now that the little shits <em>who</em> <em>had</em> <em>killed his boys</em> were in front of him, the need for revenge that been burning like a pilot light in the back of his mind thundered back to life. He circled them slowly, unable to wipe the smile off his face. Soon they would be dead and he would have his boys back. He ran a clawed finger over one of the Frogs and began to laugh. He wondered why he had been so reluctant to do this, why he had waited so long.  </p><p>And to have Michael at his side, steadfast, as he carried out his retribution, well, it was perfect. </p><p>“Wanna do the honors?” He addressed Michael with his usual bluster, ignoring the trace of nervousness that he still felt. Despite how far the new vampire had come, he hadn’t been sure that he would actually go through with this. But, he supposed, after everything, he shouldn’t have been surprised. Michael had never stopped mourning their loss, never stopped blaming himself for it. It had only gotten worse as he’d learned, slowly, under David’s steady hand, to embrace his nature, to take pleasure in it. They were so good together and it would be even better once the rest of the boys were with them too.</p><p>Michael wasn’t going to get cold feet now; he wouldn’t let him. This was exactly what his fledgling needed to crowd out the bracing moments of lucidity, the moral vertigo that sometimes still crept in. It would be better this way, easier. It was the least he could do for Michael. He owed it to him.</p><p>Too late to turn back now, anyway. For any of them.</p><p>“<em>Go on</em>,” he grinned, always prodding, pushing, “<em>do it.</em>”</p><p>Michael grabbed the first Frog and drew a sharp claw across his wrist. He squeezed it over the shallow grave that held Marko’s body, looking on avidly as the blood dripped down, saturating the patch of earth. David’s smile grew wider as he watched Michael carry out the ritual with single-minded focus.</p><p>After a while the ground began to shake. Michael shoved the kid down and immediately a pale arm shot up, pulling him in. Within minutes the human was drained and Marko had hoisted himself up, reaching for David’s hand as he stumbled to his feet. “<em>Brother</em>,” David embraced him fiercely, catching his claws in Marko’s curly hair, “<em>missed you.</em>”</p><p>Marko stepped back and took in the scene, catching himself up to speed with a glance. He’d always been a quick study. “Look at you!” he winked appreciatively at Michael and gave him a hearty pat on the back. He winced a little from the effort. “We’re gonna need to hit a party later, Davey. That pipsqueak really left me hanging.”</p><p>David smiled, baring his fangs, “Oh, it’ll be a night to remember alright.”</p><p>It took longer to resurrect Paul. He had been reduced to nothing but a pile of bones, and holy water was a bitch to come back from. But soon another Frog was dead and Paul had risen. Much to Michael’s relief, Paul harbored no hard feelings towards his new brother. But that easy amity paled in comparison to his astonishment at seeing Marko. Paul rushed the other vampire, knocking him over. Their kisses turned bloody as they tumbled, together, into the farthest reaches of the room, moaning and laughing. David smiled at the sounds of their furious reunion; it was almost heartwarming.</p><p>“Just one more to go.”</p><p>David filled with satisfaction as Michael dragged Sam over to the final grave and bled him without hesitation. His fledgling’s complete indifference to the human he had once known as his brother was almost terrifying to behold. For better or worse, the last vestiges of his conscience were well and truly forgotten. Michael’s eyes burned brightly, purified of any lingering traces of humanity, bristling with anticipation. The ground started to rumble at their feet and he shoved the boy into the dirt.</p><p>As Dwayne latched on to the sacrifice, David drew Michael back towards him, winding his arms around his waist, pressing into his back. He hummed in contentment as Michael leaned back into the embrace, letting himself be held. Michael’s curls were soft on his face as they stood together, watching Dwayne finish off the kid. Michael never even flinched.</p><p>Dwayne eventually made his way up, whole but looking a little worse for the wear. He regarded David warily, a flash of something almost like betrayal in his eyes. Dwayne had been with him the longest, was practically as old as him. It had been the most painful to contemplate bringing him back.</p><p>At first, anyway.</p><p>David locked arms with Dwayne and pulled him close. “<em>I needed you</em>,” he admitted, a trace of guilt warring with the relief he felt.   </p><p>They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity before Dwayne responded, his words as sure, as unshakable as ever, “<em>I understand</em>.”</p><p>Then Dwayne turned to Michael, fixing his gaze on the new vampire.</p><p>“Brother,” Michael began tentatively, like he wasn’t sure he was entitled to the term, eyes darting wretchedly around the darkened chamber as images of Dwayne’s body, shattered and smoldering, blared from his mind, “forgive me—”</p><p>Dwayne put him out of his misery, holding up a hand and cutting him off. “You’re one of us now.”   </p><p>Michael blinked and then nodded, overcome. It was like a missing piece had finally slid into place; it fit perfectly, the lock clicked shut.</p><p>David felt his own lingering reservations melt away as Michael was accepted by the pack, as he took his place in their brotherhood, completing it. He called to Marko and Paul, drawing them back, his blood churning with excitement, with communion. David closed his eyes and when he reopened them, his gaze was returned by four pairs of yellow eyes, feral and unblinking, glowing in the darkness. “Let’s go boys,” he said, motioning them forward, his lips sliding into a cruel smile, “the night is young and so are we.”  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Apologies to Sam and the Frog brothers, but the story had its logic and requirements and who am I to argue?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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